thought at the time that this egg-shell of a vessel was destined to exercise an important influence on the future events of my life.

On the morning of the Fourth of July we were off the Chesapeake Bay, some twelve or fifteen miles from Cape. Henry. Captain Thompson was a sterling patriot. He dearly loved his country, and gladly caught at every chance to display the broad flag of the Union. Accordingly, on this memorable day the gorgeous ensign was hoisted at the peak, the American jack waved at the fore-topmast head, and a long pennant fell in wavy folds from the main truck.

"If I had a big gun," exclaimed the worthy skipper, in a paroxysm of patriotism-"a thirty-two-pound carronade, I would fire a genuine republican salute, and make such a thundering noise, not only in the air above but in the depths below, as to wake up the lazy inhabitants of the deep, and make them peep out of their caves to ask the cause of the terrible rumpus over their heads."

At this very moment a suspicious-looking, double-headed cloud was slowly rising in the west, and ere long spread over a large space in the heavens. As it rolled onward flashes of lightning were seen and a distant rumbling was heard a thunder squall was at hand. The lightning became more vivid, and the thunder more frequent and deafening. Every sail was lowered to the deck, the helm was put hard a-port, and the gust came upon us with terrible fury. The rain fell in torrents, the lightning kept the atmosphere in a constant state of illumination, and the peals of thunder were truly appalling! A grander salute, or a more brilliant and effective display of fireworks on the Fourth of July, could hardly have been wished by the most enthusiastic patriot. Even Captain Thompson's longings for "a thundering noise. were more than realized. He stood firmly on the break of the quarter-deck, surrounded by most of the crew, who seemed to gather near him for pro

tection, astonished and terrified at the sublimity of the

scene.

I was standing on the main deck, not far from the rest of the crew at the time, and noticed that when the storm struck the schooner, some ropes that had not been hitched to a belaying pin were flying loose and might become unrove. I stepped forward, and standing on tiptoe was in the act of stretching up my right arm to grasp the end of the peak-halliards, when there came a flash of white lightning which almost blinded every man on deck, accompanied by a peal of thunder that seemed loud enough to shake the world to its centre. We all believed the schooner had been struck by lightning. This was not the case. It was, nevertheless, a narrow escape. I received on my hand and arm an electric shock, which tingled through every nerve and nearly felled me to the deck, and rendered my arm powerless for an hour afterwards.

The captain now seemed really alarmed. He ordered me in a loud voice to come aft, and told the crew to follow him into the cabin, leaving the schooner to manage matters with the thunder storm and take care of herself. He produced a bottle of "old Madeira" from a locker, and filled several glasses; and while the short-lived storm raged fearfully above our heads, he insisted on every man drinking a toast in honor of the Fourth of July, and set the example himself by tossing off a tumbler filled to the brim.

We rounded Cape Hatteras early one delightful morning, and with a pleasant breeze from the northward shaped our course for Ocracoke Inlet. Several coasters were in company, and a small schooner was seen standing towards us from the Gulf Stream. This vessel was soon recognized as the Young Pilot, bound to Savannah, which we had spoken off Sandy Hook. The captain of the little schooner appeared to recognize the Mary, hoisted his colors, and steered directly towards us.

"What can that fellow want?" muttered Captain Thompson. "He should have been in Savannah before this? What has he been doing away there in the Gulf Stream? There is roguery somewhere?"

The Young Pilot soon came within hail, when Captain Moncrieff requested Captain Thompson to heave to, as he wanted to come on board. The boat was launched from the deck of the pilot boat, and, manned by four athletic seamen, brought Captain Moncrieff alongside in handsome style. He jumped on deck, grasped the hand of Captain Thompson, and requested to have some conversation with him in the cabin. They were absent communing together for several minutes, when Captain Thompson thrust his head out of the companion-way, and looking round, caught my eye. He beckoned me to enter the cabin.

"What's in the wind now?" thought I to myself. "What part am I to play in this mysterious drama? Something better than reading doomsday pamphlets, I hope."

Here," said Captain

I went down into the cabin. (6 Thompson to Captain Moncrieff, pointing to me, “is the only person on board my vessel who would think of accompanying you on your voyage. I would gladly assist you in your unpleasant dilemma, but I cannot advise him to go with you. Nevertheless, if he is willing I shall make no objection."

Captain Moncrieff gazed upon me with a look of deep interest. "Young man," said he, "you are aware I sailed from New York the same day with the Mary. My vessel was cleared at the custom house for Savannah; this was necessary in consequence of the embargo; but I was in reality bound for La Guayra, on the Spanish Main, being the bearer of despatches of importance to a ship belonging to New York. On egging off to the eastward, to cross the Gulf Stream, my crew, convinced that Savannah was not my destined port, began to murmur. And when I

acknowledged I was bound to the Spanish Main, they, one and all, refused to proceed further on the voyage, and insisted on my running into some port on the coast. I have told Captain Thompson that if I can procure one man from his schooner, I will leave these mutinous fellows with him and proceed on my voyage. Say, then, my good fellow, that you will go with me. I will allow you twenty dollars a month, and a month's pay in admore, if you wish it. You shall receive good treatment, and will always find a friend in Archibald Moncrieff."

vance

When the captain of the pilot-boat, who seemed much excited, finished his narrative, I quietly answered without hesitation, "I will go with you."

He grasped my hand, gave it a hearty shake, and said, "I thank you. You shall have no cause to regret your decision. Pack up your things, my lad, and be ready to go on board when I return."

He entered his yawl, and was soon on the deck of the pilot-boat. It took me but a few minutes to get ready for my departure. Captain Thompson said not a word, but looked thoughtful and dejected. He appeared already to regret having been so easily persuaded to accommodate Captain Moncrieff, by granting me permission to embark on this uncertain expedition.

It was not long before the yawl returned from the little schooner, laden with chests, bags, and bundles, and having on board the captain, four seamen, and the cook. The luggage was tumbled out of the boat in short order; my chest was deposited in the stern seats. I shook hands with my old shipmates, took an affectionate leave of Captain Thompson, who had always treated me with the kindness of a father, and entered the boat. Captain Moncrieff took one oar, I took another, and in a few minutes I stood on the deck of the Young Pilot. A tackle was hooked on to the yawl, which was hoisted in and snugly

stowed on deck; the helm was put up, the fore-sheet hauled to leeward, and, before I had time to realize this change in my situation, I found myself in a strange vessel, with strange companions, bound on a strange voyage to the Spanish Main.

CHAPTER XXI.

ON BOARD THE YOUNG PILOT.

AFTER the vessels had separated and were rapidly increasing the space between them, I looked back upon the schooner Mary and recalled the many pleasant hours I had passed in that vessel, and asked myself if it would not have been better to have remained on board, trusting to the friendship of Captain Thompson and the promises of Mr. Jarvis. When I looked around, and fully comprehended the situation in which I had so unthinkingly placed myself, I saw little to give me consolation or encouragement. Captain Moncrieff was not prepossessing in his person or deportment. He was a tall, large-limbed Scotchman, about forty years of age, with light blue eyes and coarse, bloated features. He was abrupt in his language, had an exalted opinion of his merits and capacity, was always the hero of his own story; and, although he subsequently proved to be a man of generous feelings, to my unpractised optics he looked more like a bully than a gentleman.

Mr. Campbell, the mate, was also a Scotchman; but his appearance and character differed essentially from those of the captain. He was slightly built, with thin, pale features. There was nothing genial in his looks; and a certain vulpine cast of countenance, a low forehead,